


Thirsty Lips and a Strike of Luck

by shipperman



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: "Minho going down on people" literally just it, F/M, I'm not even sorry for this all, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipperman/pseuds/shipperman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Minho sucks his way to the top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thomas / Nameless Connections in Darkness and Filth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambitioncutsusdown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a joke from Kat, and I decided to take it to the next level, and actually write it down. However, I am not sure if this should be taken seriously or not.

Making out in hot and dirty pub bathrooms wasn’t really Thomas’ style. But he couldn’t exactly refuse that guy.

He walked into the pub, practically dragged in by Aris, who was too excited to hear this horrible indie band play. (He only found out it was horrible once they started and by then it was already too late to leave.) Aris was so happy to be there that Thomas, being a good friend, couldn’t leave his friend alone.

However, by the third song he realized that there would be no chance to enjoying their music. He thought about flirting around with the people around him, but didn’t find anyone interesting enough. Maybe he would just be forced to listen to horrible music, and being sweaty and pushed all over, because that’s what friends do.

By the fifth song he decided that it was it, and there was no chance, and the rest of his evening would be spent regretting the life choices that brought him into that pub. However, much to his surprise, that song was the guy-on-guitar’s solo. It felt like a setting of a cheesy 80’s movie, with one spotlight in him and the whole stage dark. Or maybe it all felt like that, because, _wow,_ he could enjoy the show after all.

Not that he paid attention to any of the words being sang (watching those lips moving softly took too much of his concentration) or the music being played (he could only imagine those hands pressed firmly against his body), but he couldn’t say that there was nothing interesting to the place anymore. He was glad for small pubs and small bands with hot members.

Gladly, he managed to catch him up for a beer before a bunch of fangirls attacked him. (Thomas lost Aris at some point, where he was too busy fangirling and asking for autographs of the drummer with the tattooed arms).

After three beers and half an hour talking he found out three important things about the guitar player:

a)     His name was Minho

b)    He had no problem with kissing boys

c)     He was going for a heavily announced bathroom break

However, as Aris pointed out daily, Thomas wasn’t very brilliant. It took a wink and almost five minutes for him to realize that Minho wanted to be followed. After that, he rushed to the bathroom, afraid that his opportunity might be lost.

He opened the door to find Minho washing his face.

“You’re finally here” he smiled, running a hand through his hair “I thought I might not have been obvious enough” he was clearly very comfortable in that position, and Thomas wondered how many boys he had kissed in dark bathrooms like that.

Knowing that he could fuck up at any given time, and it was actually a very likely thing to happen, Thomas took a different approach and decided not speak at all. Instead, he walked, slowly. He grabbed Minho by the shirt and pulled him into a hard kiss.

They stumbled to the wall, between kisses and half-hugs, and Minho pressed down Thomas against the wall, managing to take off his shirt and unbutton his jeans on the process. Thomas wondered for a second if they had locked the door, or else someone could find them in a very compromising situation. But his thoughts vanished from his mind as he felt Minho’s hand going down his pants. He held down a squeal and kissed him again.

Before Thomas could do anything, Minho pulled down his pants and kneeled on the floor, smirking and Thomas held his breath. Was he going to get blown by a hot band guy? Well, Minho wasn’t any rockstar, but this was as close as he would ever be from being a groupie.

His vivid imagination was cut short when he felt a warm pair of lips touching his dick. He looked down to see Minho looking at him, smiling, with his hands holding down Thomas’ hips. He never said a word, and that gave the whole thing a dream-like feel, and that perhaps would make Thomas question his own memory later. But now he was completely sure that Minho’s hands were squeezing his ass, and yes, definitely his dick was inside his mouth.

Thomas’ threw his head back, and closed his eyes, ignoring the sound of someone trying to get into the bathroom (that he was now sure he _did_ locked), and the horrible smell, because he could feel Minho’s tongue dancing around his cock and that was enough to take his mind off anything.

Apparently, Minho was enjoying it immensely, because he was restless. Thomas was moaning loudly and his hands pulling out the other’s hair, and pushing himself further into Minho’s mouth, whose lips opened more, as if he wouldn’t let a single inch of his dick untouched. And well, Thomas wouldn’t complain about the finger playing in his asshole either. He remembered paying attention to those finger playing guitar and was knew that they were skilled. He could only imagine what they could do to him. (Probably make him a mess of moans and shivers, whispering Minho’s name and begging him to don’t stop. But that was already happening, so he couldn’t see how he could get any more completely dominated by a guy on his knees)

And although he didn’t have many experience on that field, he could guess that Minho knew what to do, because this experience was beyond amazing for him. Or if not, he just had really low standards for blowjobs.

 

“Where were you?” Aris asked, leaning closer to Thomas’ ears, because the band was now much louder. Thomas almost missed the folky terrible band with the hot guy.

“Uh…” he hesitated biting his lip, trying to think of an excuse

“You were fucking someone” Aris guessed, shooking his head “There is a huge hickey on your neck and I am half sure that’s cum on your pants”

“The band dude” Thomas told, pointing at Minho, who now sat at the bar, with his band mates, drinking more beer. Thomas felt sort of special because Minho wasn’t hitting on anyone else. He was that night’s conquest.

“Oh yeah, he sucked me before the show” and the special feeling vanished as quickly as it appeared.


	2. Aris / Hidden In Large Parties

He freaked out a bit when the door opened to reveal Minho. Maybe because he was a giant fangirl, or maybe because he didn’t believe that he would _actually_ come, or even maybe because he was now friends with a cool musician.

But he managed to act cool. (At least he though so).

He invited Minho in, and said that he should feel at home. As any good host, Aris had to go around, and talk to everyone, and make sure that no one was destroying anything, or invading Rachel’s room. He only saw Minho again in the middle of the night. Sitting in a couch, holding a barely interesting conversation with Sonya, who seemed to be far more interested in flirting with Harriet from across the room.

In less than five minutes after Aris sat down, she left them. She gave a terrible excuse, about going to get a drink and clear her head with the night air of the balcony, but she never came back. They were left alone, awkwardly looking at each other. Too embarrassed to speak, and even more embarrassed to leave. They tried to do the whole easy talk about the weather or how good the party was, but before they exchanged a hundred words, they realized that none of them could keep up that ridiculous talk. They don’t even remember who gave the amazing idea of drinking together, but both of them were excited to execute it.

 

They had become best friends after two vodkas.

They swore eternal love after two glasses of whisky.

By the time they were licking colorful drinks from each other’s chests, they could barely form any coherent sentence at all. (Coincidentally, it was around that time of night that people decided to move away from them). Aris felt the room spinning around them, and he could feel his body falling, but he could also feel Minho’s arms holding him into place.

He only realized that they were actually kissing when he felt out of breath.

It was a messy and sloppy kiss, cut by giggles, because two drunken idiots could barely manage to look at each other before starting laughing for no reason at all.

It was around that time that Minho thought it would be appropriate to stick his hands down Aris pants.

They kissed in the corridor, they kissed against the room door, they kissed a little bit more against the doorframe; it was a surprise that they managed to close the door before taking off any clothing. But when they reached the bed, Aris’ pants were unbuttoned and Minho’s hand moved over his underwear.

Although it all happened too fast, it was almost like slow motion. He could feel Minho’s hands pinning his arms down, and the lips kissing his neck, but at the same time, his heart racing made sure he knew that it was all happening in normal speed.

He felt Minho’s bare chest against his own, and it still smelled of alcohol, which made him laugh again. A kiss was enough to shut him up.

He saw Minho kneeling on the foot of the bed, spreading and grabbing his legs, pulling him closer. He looked down to see his underwear being pulled out, and suddenly he was completely aware of what was happening. Maybe a lightning had no trouble with striking the same spot twice.

He remembered about the blowjob at the pub. It was rushed and quick, hidden behind the stage, five minutes before the actual show began, and still he couldn’t complain. Now he was half-drunk and it seemed even better.

And although he may not remember much of it later, he definitely enjoyed it. His hand brushing Minho’s hair, and mouthing his name and how good he was. And all the praising, that made the other even more excited. His tongue danced around Aris’ cock, up and down, while his hands grabbed the thighs around him firmly, as if he wouldn’t let he escape any time soon.

Aris loved that feeling. The idea of being _wanted._ And he could guess by the enthusiasm that Minho liked whatever he was doing (and he wasn’t going to complain either.).

His mouth fell open, moaning, perhaps too loud (there were definitely people outside who heard it) and thrusting against Minho’s tongue, feeling the warmth of the other’s breath against his cock. The fingers moving slowly against pale skin, gently caressing his legs, making him shiver again.

Aris wanted Minho on top of him, with every part of his body pressed against his, so he could touch and kiss as much as he wanted. He could blame it on the alcohol, and any guy normally would, but he was more of a man than that. _He_ wanted Minho, no explanations necessary.

The room was dark that they could barely see each other; but they didn’t need to, even though the hands missed each other and the eyes never met, they were both connected somehow. (Besides the cock sucking, obviously). His hands searched for Minho’s hair, and then pushed it back, pulling away from him.

“Come here” he mumbled, his hands grabbing Minho’s torso, pulling him up, to lay in the bed too.

Minho crawls into the bed, and Aris backs away, giving him space. Minho sits down on Aris’ lap, still inside his jeans. They kissed again, but this time it was messier and clumsier. They barely could see and let their own hormones take charge. Aris feel a pair of hands on his back, scratching, probably leaving marks for the next morning. His hands moved down to, finally, undo the jeans.

It wasn’t long until they were a tangle of limbs in bed. Or when Aris whispered in Minho’s ear, how gentle he would be.

 

The next morning there is a list of things he realizes as soon as he wakes up:

  1.      He is not alone in bed.
  2.     He is in _Rachel’s_ bed (so by midday he will be a dead man).
  3.      His head weights too much.
  4.     And he definitely fucked the guitar player of his favorite band.




End file.
